The Night Hawk
Whom shall I tell my tale of woes?
who shall sing with me
my song of oblivion
the evil that descended hearth-stead,
in the tail of a winter night,
swooped upon us like a bald eagle,
as vicious as a hungry wolf,
raped my mothers and their daughters,
and planted in them his abomination.
Who shall I tell my shame?
The unthinkable event of that night
had left behind unthinkable souvenirs.
Now, my mothers’ bellies are swollen with abominations.
Whom shall I tell my fathers’ dilemmas?
My fathers now accept congratulations for another man’s evil.
What other option do they have anyway?
I have tried running away,
but I still hear the echoes of my imaginations—
the penury of my mother’s voices,
giving birth to abominations.
Running won’t cleanse my roots of the abominations.
But where do I begin?
Everywhere pongs of abomination.
How do I begin?
When my mothers even love the abominations?
When do I begin?
Maybe when the sun trades shift with the moon?
I cry like a mother hen.
the night hawk has whisked my offspring.
I do not cry so the evil one would release his clench.
I’m only crying so the world would hear my voice.
STOP POLLUTING
A
KYRIELLE HYMN
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Heed climate warming it's for real!
Not all life can adapt,
symbiotic pairs will, yes keel,
sadly becoming fact!
Stop polluting, recycle, please!
Time is running out we must act,
help nature right our wrongs!
Simple things like recycle that,
sweet smelling or it pongs
Stop polluting, recycle, please!
Mother nature still begging help.
Seasons fickle, forlorn.
Yes, she can see us suffer, yelp!
Begging is not her norm.
Stop polluting, recycle, please!
~~~~~~~~~~~
NB The only thing it has in common with Kyrielle is the refrain.
Kyrielle Hymn
Type: Structure, Metrical Requirement, Repetitive Requirement, Rhyme Scheme Requirement, Stanzaic
Description: A hymnal stanza with appended one line iambic tetrameter refrain.
Origin: American
Schematic: ababR cdcdR, etc.
Rhythm:
xX xX xX xX
xX xX xX
xX xX xX xX
xX xX xX
xX xX xX xX
Rhythm/Stanza Length: 5
Pasted from: Poets Collective:
http://poetscollective.org/poetryforms/tag/iambic-tetrameter/page/2/
Bell
rings, chimes
hours, announces
weddings, war ends, death knells.
Bell shape hollow, inverted cup
resonates, polls, rings, dings, dongs, pongs and pings
to bring order to day's events.
Bells rung,
done
WHEELIE BIN JOE
On the north side of Brisbane lives a man who does no wrong,
He pongs a bit, he's grubby and his beard and hair are long,
He sits upon the footpath mid plastic bags all sorts,
Black garbage round his shoulders and white ones on for shorts,
A yuppie down the footpath tripped,
and soon fell over Joe,
Recoiled in shock as horror gripped,
climbed off the "so and so."
So now they leave him on his throne,
cross the street to the other side,
From his house front boards, the nails have flown,
weather boards have gone to hide.
The prophet peers from neath his robes,
bags plastic shuffled flies,
In trance the seer discards his clothes,
as fresh plastic he applies,
Oh he'd tell us all of what he knows,
If he perchance did speak,
But plastic fumes get up his nose,
and cause his brain to squeak.
So if you pass the prophet there,
do spare a thought for him,
see his waiscoat's very shiny glare,
but the plastics getting thin.
The winter wind it whistles but Joe has cause to grin,
for the masters call, he's waiting to right some deadly sin.
Sponsor Paula Swanson
Contest Name Do You Know The Cardboard Man?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.